


Immortal Beloved

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Color of Madness, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Stress, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 14:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: Dismas finds that the locket he picked up earlier had an interesting use...with unforeseen consequences.





	Immortal Beloved

Dismas thumbed absentmindedly at the locket around his neck. He could barely see his companions through the eerie glow of the fireplace. Everything here was unnatural; the ground they walked on, the pulsing air, waves of hideous monsters, the crumbling woman he had taken the trinket from…

The Highwayman was pulled from his thoughts by Rose pulling up his sleeve and sticking some leeches onto his arm. Well. That was something natural, at least. His mind was further eased by Reynauld giving an inspiring, if rather lengthy, speech. Perhaps whatever they encountered next wouldn’t be so terrible.

Leaving the fireplace behind, the four adventurers found themselves standing near the shattered windmill. Towering over them was an equally broken man, his flesh turned to rock and a sickly glow in his eye sockets. Around his neck was a locket identical to the one Dismas wore. Actually, he looked almost exactly like the man pictured in the trinket…

Dismas shook his head and drew his dagger. Best not to get sentimental. As the fight dragged on, he couldn’t help but notice something…off, about the poor soul’s attacks. Whenever he sliced at the party, Dismas’s companions would cry out in pain and terror, yet he didn’t feel a thing. While Esther hastily restored the party’s health, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Readying his blade and smirking, the Highwayman dashed past Reynauld and stabbed the cursed husk.

His blade struck true, but before he could pull away the Miller grabbed him by the shoulders. Dismas’s heart nearly stopped as the Miller gasped in his face, crystalline tears spilling from his sockets. In a moment of terror he thought the husk was about to bite into him, but instead he raised a withered hand to caress his cheek.

Dismas didn’t dare squirm as the Miller dropped his scythe and wrapped his arms around him, one hand patting his hair and the other occasionally reaching down to stroke the locket. Time seemed to stop in that moment, assuming it hadn’t already been shredded by the comet’s influence. His stress was growing, yet inexplicably fading at the same time. He couldn’t speak, fight back, or even return the embrace. Yet deep within his heart, or perhaps it was an illness in his gut, he quailed in sympathy for the poor soul’s grief.

The moment was finally broken by the Miller stumbling back with a shrill cry, chemicals and other vile fluids burning his face. Snapping back to reality, however twisted, Dismas jabbed his pistol against the husk’s chest and fired, the force sending him flying behind Reynauld. He turned to the Plague Doctor standing in the back and smiled.

“Thanks, Rose! I owe ya one!” he said. She nodded and lobbed another plague grenade at the Miller as Esther casted Judgement upon a summoned Farmhand. The battle continued until the husk finally crumbled underneath Reynauld’s blade. Almost immediately the landscape distorted until the party was returned to stable ground on the edge of the Hamlet.

“Dismas…you’re crying.” Esther whispered. Dismas raised a trembling hand and touched his own face. Indeed, it was soaked with tears, the shock of the event finally hitting him like a sack of bricks. His heart pounded, gasps escaped his throat, and his knees buckled as if he were a newborn fawn. He collapsed, falling into Reynauld’s arms.

“I need a drink. A stiff one.” He muttered. Reynauld nodded and wrapped an arm around Dismas’s torso, carefully guiding him to town. Esther and Rose remained silent, not wishing to make the situation any worse. Conversation could wait until tensions eased.

Alas, nothing in the Farmstead remains the same. The heap of dust and bone glowed as it reformed, the Miller standing once more with a sorrowful wail. Beyond the pain and madness, there was an ache within his petrified heart. All he could think of was his beloved Mildred, and the Highwayman who held one of the last parts of her.


End file.
